Irony
by solderini
Summary: Which is worse: to be capable and absent, or to be present and helpless?


Disclaimer: Fushigi Yuugi does not belong to me, nor am I making any money off of this work of fanfiction.  
  
Warning: angst, death, some sexuality. Also, this is a reincarnation fic, though that should be obvious.  
  
~~~Irony~~~  
  
You always sleep like this, on your back with your head turned to one side. How you do it, I have no idea. I always sleep on my side, curled up and clutching something. Or, at least, that is what you say. I have never paid much attention to my sleeping habits.  
  
You shift in your sleep, whimpering slightly. I take your hand in one of mine and marvel. How is it possible, that your hand is so small? You have always been the stronger of us.  
  
My eyes travel over your face, memorizing you. Your left eye, slightly larger and rounder than your right. That break in the cartilage that sets your nose apart. The small scar behind your left ear from the time Houjun tried to teach you to fish. Small imperfections make up my world.  
  
I look at our joined hands again. How can yours possibly be so much more pale? I remember going to the beach with you in summertime. You came back just as brown as me. I can see the veins running beneath the skin on the back of your hands now, and the shadows of arteries.  
  
Another whimper. You must be nightmaring. I cannot fit on this narrow bed with you, so I lay only my shoulders down, on my side, my head resting on the pillow next to yours and my lower body remaining in the chair. Your breath on my face makes me want to weep.  
  
I pull you close, carefully. I have always felt awkward next to you, a block to your wheel. I suppose it's a function of being so large: I always take up more space than I feel I should. It's never bothered you.  
  
You always told me I think too much about things that don't matter at all, but that's not true.  
  
I remember that time we came back from the library soaking wet. You were complaining that I held the umbrella too high and all the water was sneaking under. I just laughed. No one can make me laugh like you. I remember watching the drop of water slide down the shell of your ear and tracing its path with my finger. You turned to me and asked what I was doing. I told you, and you laughed. You said I had a fascination for the strangest things.  
  
I don't think it's strange at all, or unimportant.  
  
I didn't always pay such attention to you. There was no time: there was med school for both of us, and work, and a million things that seemed to say that fate was against us. There are those moments, though, that stand out in my memory with perfect clarity. Now I am watching your face and wondering how I got here.  
  
Your lips part slightly, and I want to kiss them but I know you'd never forgive me. You claim your morning breath is capable of killing small animals. It never bothered me, but I am not about to deny your wishes now.  
  
I shift slightly closer to you, and now I can feel the curve of your breast against my chest, pressing into me with your every shallow breath.  
  
I remember one night. We had just come home to my empty house from a movie, which one, I cannot remember. I remember you pushing me down to sit on the living room couch. You took off your shirt and bra and dropped them to the floor. I could only stare. You straddled me. I remember trying to look into your eyes, wanting to make sure you were comfortable, but I couldn't look away from your breasts. I cupped one and watched your nipple harden when I ran my thumb over it. Then I buried my face in the hollow in between them and pressed them to my cheeks. I remember thinking, "I want this moment to be my epitaph."  
  
I lay our joined hands in that same hollow and let the time pass. The monitor beeps in time with your heartbeat.  
  
I remember lying down on the old baseball field with you and watching the clouds. You pointed at a cloud you thought looked like a moose, but I looked at you instead. I noticed everything in that moment: the soft shadow of the cloud passing over your face, the slight glimmer of saliva on your lips. You turned to me and starting talking about your history class. I laughed. It's exactly like you, to not notice that I'm having a romantic moment.  
  
A sudden thought occurs to me. I almost check, but then I realize that the IV and monitors are attached to your other arm. It won't hurt anything, to have the one in my hand bent.  
  
You sigh, a sign that you are waking up. I remember one morning I woke up before dawn and just laid there, feeling you. You didn't wake up for at least two hours. When you did, you gave that same sigh, just before you opened your eyes and smiled. You ran your fingers across my lips. I kissed your eyelids; your eyelashes tickled my chin.  
  
I don't know if these are the things you remember, but I remember them.  
  
I remember something else, too. I used to be the servant of a god, but I can't recall the name of that god, or my own. Someone cried when I died. It wasn't you. You were dead long before, and I hadn't been able to get to you in time. I was a doctor then, as I am now, but I could heal with my hands.  
  
I lay my hand flat over your heart and will you to heal. But there's no flow of energy this time, no miracle. You stir. I curl my hand around yours again.  
  
"'Juan?"  
  
You're looking at me now, not quite awake but still conscious. I keep my voice low, hoping you will not notice it's huskiness.  
  
"I'm here, Shouka."  
  
"Are we home yet?"  
  
I press my lips together.  
  
"No. I'm sorry. They wouldn't let me take you home."  
  
"That's okay."  
  
I don't know what to say. You wanted to go home to our apartment. I know you'd be more comfortable there. Are you trying to help me, somehow? I'm the one who should be helping you. Even now, you're the strong one of us.  
  
My eyes are wet. I hope you don't notice. You should be worrying about yourself at this point. But when you try to lift your hand to touch my face, I help you. Your fingers are so cool and fragile against the bridge of my nose that my body starts to shake. In all my life, it's only you that can make me react this way.  
  
"I don't have much longer, do I."  
  
I cannot speak, so I shake my head and kiss the back of your hand. You lay it on my cheek and rub back and forth weakly. I press my hand to yours to still it. I want to remember this moment.  
  
"I'm sorry. I can't. I can't do it anymore. I... why am I here *now*?"  
  
You lift your head slightly. I slide my arm under it, let you pillow your head on it. You always loved to cuddle like this.  
  
"I'm glad you're here now, though."  
  
You close your eyes and let your head fall to rest fully on my arm. I kiss your hairless scalp and let the time pass. Your heartbeat slows, your breathing slows, until I am sure you are asleep again. I close my eyes and let my body fall into rhythm with yours, but I do not sleep. My body continues to shake. It doesn't bother you.  
  
I hold you until your breathing stops and the monitors scream. Then I go to let the nurses know I've lost you again.  
  
~~~End~~~ 


End file.
